


I Don't Know What to Say

by Figaro1



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate - Freeform, Alternate Universe, F/F, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:07:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26030884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Figaro1/pseuds/Figaro1
Summary: A severely injured young woman is found by the side of the Black Canyon Highway and brought to a nearby military facility for care. While there, she forms a unique bond with the Chief Administrator.
Relationships: Kathryn Janeway & Seven of Nine, Kathryn Janeway/Seven of Nine
Comments: 24
Kudos: 56





	1. Introductions - Kate / Anna

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU inspired by the characters of Star Trek: Voyager. Warning: this story contains descriptions of severe injury and details of past abuse.

**Introductions - Kate**

I quietly take her in as she sits across from me. 

My desk is a barrier, or a breaker, I’m not sure which. Either way, it serves to protect me from her, and her from me.

When they brought her in 3 days ago, she was disoriented and violent. That’s what I observed and that’s what the admitting wrote in the report. Out of her mind with pain. I can’t say as I blame her for her actions. She struggled against their attempts to sedate her, blacking the attendings eyes and breaking his nose with one swift, wild punch. Eventually, she was restrained and seen to.

Her damages are extensive. Second and third degree burns cover the right half of her body. She needs time to heal. It’s possible that she may need some reconstructive surgery. She might lose her right eye.

ADOT footage is sketchy at best. She came into view at approximately 03:12, stumbling southward on the berm of the Black Canyon Highway. Headed for Phoenix, one must assume, in the middle of the night. Headed from … where? Unknown at this time.

At 03:26 she was found lying unconscious by the side of the road, by an off duty firefighter who was heading to Lake Pleasant for some fishing. He did his best to stabilize her and called for assistance. An ambulance was dispatched and she was brought here, where she gained consciousness as they were transporting her from the ambulance to triage. That’s when she introduced her fist to the attending’s face.

Since then she has had the best care and treatment our doctors can provide. During her initial examination it was discovered that, in addition to her burns, she was dehydrated, malnourished, and that her right femur and two of her ribs were in the process of mending from breaks that appear to have not been set by conventional means.

Best guess is that she’s in her early to mid 20s. She wasn’t carrying any identification, cards or currency. No personal items. Just the clothes on her back and the shoes on her feet. 

She’s been here 72 hours and we still don’t know her name, where she’s from, or what happened to her. 

While many have tried to communicate with her, none have been successful. There have been no further black eyes or injuries, but no one has been able to get through to her. The doctors and nurses do their best to assure her that she’s safe and will be cared for. But none have been able to successfully engage her in a conversation. At first, Dr. Zimmerman thought she might be deaf, or mute, or perhaps smoke inhalation was impeding her ability to vocalize. Fundamental testing ruled out those possibilities, but did not yield any conversation or information. 

They’ve tried all they can. That’s why she’s here with me. She’s made it to the end of the line.

It’s clear she’s been through hell. Much of her is covered in bandages. Her hair was singed so badly that the nurses shaved what remained down to her scalp for her comfort. Thin and pale and silent, she sits across from me.

“I’m Dr. Kathryn Janeway. I’m the Chief Administrator of this facility.” 

Nothing. 

“I’ve been following your progress and hoping to get a moment to meet you.”

Still nothing.

“We’re very interested in learning more about you, and I’m hoping that we can have a chat and you might …” Suddenly, I’m struck by the color of her unbandaged eye. It’s the softest powder blue I’ve ever seen. It’s looking directly into mine and, though the color is gentle, the gaze is forbidding. She’s not going to budge.

And why should she? I’m just a stranger behind a desk. An authority figure that has no authority over her. 

Enough of this.

I stand slowly, so as not to startle her, and walk around my desk. I sit in the second guest chair, ease back and take a fortifying breath.

She turns her head to gaze at me. Curious.

“Look, I know I’m a complete stranger. We’re all complete strangers to you here. But, I want you to know that our only motive is to care for you, to see that you get the help that you need. We have your best interests at heart, but we need to hear from you as to what they are.” I lean forward, put my elbows on my knees, clasp my hands and rest my chin on my thumbs. “Would you please consider sharing some information with me? Whatever you’re comfortable with …”

She opens her mouth slightly, and I can see that she’s trying. She softly clears her throat and tries again. I hear a whisper soft “Anna”.

A name! It’s a start. I can’t help but smile. “Anna - thank you”.

My smile fades as I see a tear start down her cheek.

“Does it hurt to speak?” I reach across my desk and grab one of the medicated lozenges I keep on hand. I start to partially unwrap it and hand it to her. “Here, this should help soothe your throat pain.”

As I hold the lozenge out to her, I realize, she doesn’t know what it is. How is that possible?

“It’s a throat lozenge. Have you had one before?” 

No response.

“You unwrap it and hold it in your mouth. The warmth of your tongue and your saliva will activate it and it will release a soothing syrup. Don’t bite it. It will eventually melt away and you should feel a little better.”

I hold it out to her. She looks at it, but does not reach out.

“Ah, well.” l place it on the desk near her, close enough for her to reach. “That’s yours if you’d like it.”

I try not to take this for the rejection that it seems to be. This is not personal. 

I stand slowly and turn to go back to sit behind my desk. Once I’m in place, I give it one final go. “Anna, I want you to know that my door is always open to you if you need anything or if you’d like to have a conversation. Please feel free to visit me here. If I’m not in my office, the nurse on the desk out front will know how to reach me.”

Nothing.

Nodding to myself. I hit the intercom. “Lana, she’s ready to go back to her room.”

The door opens and Lana pokes her head in. Anna gives me one final look before she gets up and leaves the room with Lana following behind.

After Lana closes the door, I notice that the lozenge I left on the desk is gone.

**Introductions - Anna**

The woman they call “Lana” fetched me from my room and walked me to this one. 

She leaves me alone in this new room with this new stranger. So many strangers. So many rooms. 

I know that I am in trouble, but I don’t know when the punishment will come, or what it will be. I’ve sinned so many times. 

I look across the desk to where she sits. Behind her is a shelf full of books. More books than I’ve ever seen in one place at one time. 

She is calm and assured. She is small but there is a strength about her. She seems different from the others. 

“I’m Dr. Katherine Janeway. I’m the Chief Administrator of this facility.” 

I don’t know what to say. 

“I’ve been following your progress and hoping to get a moment to meet you.” 

I don’t know what to say. 

“We’re very interested in learning more about you, and I’m hoping that we can have a chat and you might …” 

She stops mid-sentence as our gazes connect. Her eyes are a combination of slate grey and dark blue. Beyond that, and more importantly, they are kind. 

She stands slowly, walks around her desk and sits in the chair next to me. I turn to look at her. She absently runs her hands through her hair and I notice that, though it’s brown, when the light hits it, it blazes with copper compliments. 

“Look, I know I’m a complete stranger. We’re all complete strangers to you here. But, I want you to know that our only motive is to care for you, to see that you get the help that you need. We have your best interests at heart, but we need to hear from you as to what they are.” 

She leans forward, puts her elbows on her knees, clasps her hands together and rests her chin on her thumbs. 

“Would you please consider sharing some information with me? Whatever you’re comfortable with …” 

I can’t say why, but something inside me urges me to trust her. I try but my voice isn’t ready. I haven’t used it in so long. I clear my throat and try again. “Anna.” 

She rewards my efforts with the most beautiful smile. 

“Anna - thank you”. 

No one has thanked me for anything for so long. I can’t remember the last time ... 

“Does it hurt to speak?” 

I don’t know what to say. Everything hurts, but I’m not suddenly crying because of that. I can’t help but cry because I want to believe the kindness in her smile. I want to, but I know that I should not. 

She reaches across her desk and grabs something, fiddles with it and holds it out to me. 

“Here, this should help soothe your throat pain.” 

I don’t know what that is. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. 

“It’s a throat lozenge. Have you had one before?” 

I have not. I don’t know what to say. 

“You unwrap it and hold it in your mouth. The warmth of your tongue and your saliva will activate it and it will release a soothing syrup. Don’t bite it. It will eventually melt away and you should feel a little better.” 

I know most of the words she’s using, but not all of them. I notice a dictionary on her bookshelf. I would like to read it. It would help me understand what she’s saying, but it would be sinful to ask. 

She holds the lozenge out to me. I don’t know what to do. 

“Ah, well.” She places it on the desk near me. “That’s yours if you’d like it.” 

She stands slowly, turns to go back and sits behind her desk. 

While her back is to me, I take the lozenge. 

“Anna, I want you to know that my door is always open to you if you need anything or if you’d like to have a conversation. Please feel free to visit me here. If I’m not in my office, the nurse on the desk out front will know how to reach me.” 

So much kindness in her eyes. Such generosity. I don’t know what to say. 

She pushes a button and says “Lana, she’s ready to go back to her room.” 

The door opens and Lana pokes her head in. I look at “Kathryn” then rise to follow Lana. 

The lozenge is sweet and soothing on my tongue. 


	2. We Meet Again - Kate / Anna

**We Meet Again - Kate**

I stand looking at her through the bars of the holding cell.

What did I expect? 

Certainly not this.

Only yesterday, she was sitting silently, if not calmly, in my office. Seemingly over her initial, groggy violence. Quiet, if not serene.

What in hell happened between then and now?

I note some new bandages. Most likely applied after the recent scuffle.

From what I can gather, night patrol interrupted her in the middle of ransacking my office. Something, I have to admit, I did not anticipate.

They followed protocol. Ordered her to stand down. When she refused, they had to restrain her. With force. 

The takedown was not immediate. She is deceptively strong, even in her weakened state. I can’t even imagine what she’ll be like when she fully recovers.

My office is trashed. 

In my hands I hold the two halves of, what used to be, my dictionary. Spine torn clean through. 

I take a calming breath. 

“We meet again”

No response.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

Nothing.

“Then, I’ll tell you what I’ve learned. If I get any of it wrong, please correct me.”

Was that a nod?

“You were discovered, unsupervised, in my office at 22:34 by 2nd shift hall patrol. They interrupted you rifling through my desk.”

At that, a sharp look from her. A nervous flare of her nostril. A more perceptible nod. Acknowledgement.

“They ordered you to stand-down. You refused.”

Is that a startled look? A barely there shake of her head from left to right?

“They tried to peacefully remove you. You resisted. You fought them. It took 4 of them to finally restrain you. During the struggle, you damaged my …”

“NO!” she cries out. “No, that’s not …”

I’m taken aback by her outburst. 

“I did it wrong. I don’t know how to …”

Clearly frustrated, she rocks back and forth on the bench. 

“I was trying to …” 

She’s grasping at words. Trying to communicate. Growing more frustrated with each attempt. Her left hand has clenched into a white knuckled fist. She uses it to pound her left thigh.

This is not the reaction I was anticipating. She’s openly crying now.

“Please, stop. You'll hurt yourself” I exclaim.

My startled shout has the opposite of my desired effect. Escalating instead of de-escalating. She’s rapidly worked herself up into a gasping hysteria. Weeping and choking to take in breath.

I turn to the officer on guard and command him to open the cell and let me in.

“Doctor Janeway, she’s violent. You risk injury” he insists. 

She’s clearly having a dire episode and needs assistance. This is no time to hesitate.

I level him with my best command force glare and growl “do it!”

He hits the lock release on the panel and the cell door pops open. I’m through it in an instant, slamming it behind me, locking me in with her.

I slowly raise my palms up in, what I hope will be, a calming gesture. “I mean you no harm. I just want to talk with you. I want to help you calm down.” 

She looks up at me, wild eyed and desperate. Looking for a route to escape. 

“Get out! I hurt them, I’ll hurt you!” she shrieks.

I believe that she is capable of hurting me, absolutely. Will she though? Is that what she wants to do?

I should match her strength with mine and establish dominance over her and this situation. But my intuition tells me that there's a better way. The right way.

“I think I’ll stay.” Hands still up in supplication, I start to edge closer to her. I’ve let my frustration with the situation go completely.

“Go, go. Before I …” The rest of her statement is swallowed up in a choking gasp. 

“I know that you’re quite capable of causing me distress. I acknowledge that.” 

Another step closer.

“But I don’t think that you want to. I’m willing to take that risk.” 

Another.

“I don’t know you, but I can tell that all of this, this place, these people, are foregin to you. Everything seems confusing and wrong.” 

Closer now. Close enough that, if I dared, I could reach out and touch her. Instead, I slowly kneel in front of her. She watches me like a hawk, but doesn’t move. Her breathing still coming in hitches.

“I’d like to apologize to you.”

I’ve totally confused her. She wasn’t expecting that and It’s thrown her off enough that she’s stopped her thrashing.

“I’ve done a poor job of guiding you through this experience.” Further confusion from her at that. 

“I’ve made some bad assumptions about you. About what you know, about your intentions. We all have, but I’m the one in charge, so I am fully responsible.” 

Her choking gasps have calmed to watery hiccups.

I slowly lean in closer to her.

“I’m sorry.”

The hiccups fade.

“I’d like to do everything I can to understand you and help you.” As I say these words, I realize I’m not simply using them to de-escalate a fraught situation, I really mean them.

“Will you please forgive me and give me a chance?”

As we look into each other's eyes, I can sense her fragility and innocence. I hope that she can sense my sincerity. 

She takes a long moment to think, but, eventually, she nods in agreement.

I huff out a breath of relief and allow myself a small smile.

**We Meet Again - Anna**

She stands looking at me through the bars of this cage.

She looks angry. She looks disappointed.

I am angry. Mad at myself. Mad that I ended up here.

In her hands she holds the two halves of the dictionary I wanted to borrow. 

“We meet again” she says.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

I don’t know what to say.

“Then, I’ll tell you what I’ve learned. If I get any of it wrong, please correct me.”

I nod in agreement.

“You were discovered, unsupervised, in my office at 22:34 by 2nd shift hall patrol. They interrupted you rifling through my desk.”

No, no. no. You said I could visit you anytime. If you weren’t there the nurse at the desk would be able to find you. You weren’t there, the nurse wasn’t there. I just wanted to borrow your dictionary. I was trying to find a pencil to leave you a note, when they ran into the room, shouting at me.

My head hurts, my chest is tight. I just wanted to borrow the dictionary.

“They ordered you to stand-down. You refused.”

I wasn’t stealing, I wasn’t trying to ruin anything.

“They tried to peacefully remove you. You resisted. You fought them. It took 4 of them to finally restrain you. During the struggle, you damaged my …”

“NO!” I cry out. “No, that’s not …I did it wrong. I don’t know how to …”

They yelled at me, they grabbed at me. I couldn’t get through them to the door.

It’s getting harder to breathe.

“I was trying to …” 

I’m so stupid. I did it all wrong. I didn’t want to fight them. I didn’t want to hurt them. 

These words don’t come out. So much pressure. I pound my thigh to try and focus my pain away from my head, away from my chest.

“Please, stop. You'll hurt yourself” she exclaims.

It’s not working. I’ve never been so frustrated, so inarticulate. I want to explain, but I don’t know how. It’s getting harder to breathe, I’m crying harder. 

She turns to the man next to her and tells him to let her in.

“Doctor Janeway, she’s violent. You risk injury” he says. 

Please go away. 

“Do it!” she growls.

The cage door pops open. She’s through it in an instant. She slams the door behind her. She’s locked herself in with me.

She holds her hands up in front of her. “I mean you no harm. I just want to talk with you. I want to help you calm down.” 

No one can help me. Not you, not anyone. “Get out! I hurt them, I’ll hurt you!” 

“I think I’ll stay.” 

“Go, go. Before I …” 

“I know that you’re quite capable of causing me distress. I acknowledge that.” 

She steps closer.

“I’m willing to take that risk.” 

Why, why would anyone take a risk on me?

“I don’t know you, but I can tell that all of this, this place, these people, are foregin to you. Everything seems confusing and wrong.” 

In one easy sentence she summed up what I’ve been unable to say.

“I’d like to apologize to you.”

Did I hear her correctly? She’s apologizing to me?

“I’ve done a poor job of guiding you through this experience. I’ve made some bad assumptions about you. About what you know, about your intentions. We all have, but I’m the one in charge, so I am fully responsible.” 

I did hear correctly. As unbelievable as it seems, she is apologizing to me.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’d like to do everything I can to understand you and help you. Will you please forgive me and give me a chance?”

How extraordinary. I thought she’d been here to reprimand me, to punish me. Instead, she’s apologizing to me and offering me her help.

I look into her eyes and can find only kindness there. The same kindness I saw yesterday in her office, but now, it’s deeper, more apparent.

I nod my agreement.

She huffs out a breath and shares it with me once again. She shares her lovely smile.


	3. What Now? - Kate

I have us tucked up, at a four top, in a corner of the officers’ mess. Her back is to the wall, I sit to her left. The two halves of the dictionary sit on the table between us. I had abandoned them during the excitement, but retrieved them on the way out of the brig.

Though this mess is open 24/7, it’s fairly vacant now at 02:14. I think that this might be the best place for our next conversation. Particularly because my office is in disarray.

She sits ramrod straight in her chair, hands in her lap. I can sense small trepidation from her. I think that we both know that the gains we made in the holding cell are fragile. We can either build on them, or destroy them. I’m hoping to build. I hope that that is her wish too.

“This is the officers’ mess. A cafeteria or restaurant for the …” I check myself, is this really where I want to start?

“We can get some food and drink here, while we have a chat. Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat or drink?”

Her gaze wanders around the room. It’s medium sized, but larger than any she’s been introduced to here so far. 

“This is where I take my meals. Mostly. Sometimes, I’ll have them in my quarters, but, this is the room where officers, like me, gather to enjoy each other's company and some nourishment. I wouldn’t bring you here under normal circumstances, but ... “ I’ll let that go.

The 3rd shift server steps up to our table. “Good morning Dr. Janeway, what can I bring you?” she asks.

“Coffee, black, please.” I look to Anna, “Would you like something to drink, or to eat? I know they’ll be bringing you your breakfast in a few hours in your room, but, you can have something now if you’d like.”

She hesitates, looks at me. I give her a nod of encouragement. “A glass of milk, please.”

A full sentence! What a triumph! The server has no idea the gift she’s been given. “Coming right up” she says and leaves us to ourselves.

“I have to admit, I don’t even know where to start” I say, “But I’ll share that with you, so you know that I’m in new territory too.” How to even begin?

How about at the beginning?

“I meant what I said in the holding cell. I want to do what I can to help you, but I need to know you before I can do that.” 

The server returns with our drinks and puts the coffee down in front of me. As she places the milk in front of her, Anna looks up and says “thank you”. The server smiles and returns “you’re welcome” before she walks away.

Let’s get to this, shall we?

“I’ve been thinking a lot about you. Who you are, where you are from, what you’ve been through, and I have to admit, I just don’t know.”

She takes a sip of her milk. It leaves a small moustache on her upper lip. Why do I find that endearing?

“So, here’s the deal that I’d like to make with you.”

She’s listening attentively, tense, but present.

“I’d like for us to share information in an effort to gain a better understanding. As such, I’m going to ask you some questions.”

So far so good.

“I promise that I won’t ask you any questions, that I’m not willing to answer about myself. I am open to any questions that you have about me with the same reciprocation. I promise that I will keep what we discuss in confidence and ask you to do the same.”

Her eyes are wide at this. I can see a million questions flashing behind them. Where will she start?

First though, a needed caveat.

“Having said that, I need to reserve the following exceptions. In my capacity as Chief Administrator, there are some topics of conversation that are restricted. I will let you know if you raise one of them. I will ask you to respect these boundaries. And, if based on our conversation, in my professional capacity, I feel that you, or someone else will come to harm, I reserve the right to intervene. I ask that you acknowledge that this is a possibility. I don’t, at this moment, think that I will need to, but I need you to know that it is something that I reserve.”

She thinks for a moment. “I agree and apply the same rules from my side. Is that acceptable?”

More than.

“Yes, I accept.”

We share a small smile. We each take a sip of our beverage. The coffee bites me back and I’m glad of it, at this early hour of the morning.

“So, in the spirit of our new agreement, I’ll start by answering the questions I just posed about you: who are you, where are you from, what have you been through.”

I have her full attention at that. So I begin. 

“As you know, I am Dr. Kathryn Janeway. I was born and raised in Bloomington, Indiana. Quite a different terrain from the Arizona desert I find myself in now.” I shake my head and laugh a little at that. I’ve always wondered, who, of their own free will would choose to live in this heat blasted place? 

I can tell she doesn’t appreciate that attempt at humor. I continue. 

“My father was a military man, my mother was a teacher, mostly maths, and my sister and I raised as much ruckus as we could.” 

A fond memory of a sunny childhood Saturday at the pond passes through my mind. I close my eyes for a moment and can almost feel the gentle breeze kiss my face. 

“My childhood was pretty standard, school during the week, church on Sundays, pizza parties after softball games and big tubs of buttered popcorn at the movies. There was always a dog around to confide in and adventure with.” I catch myself “I’m wool gathering” and get back to the final part of the question. 

“As for what I’ve been through, I grew up to follow in my father’s footsteps, joined the Navy, saw the world. So many wonderful places. Too many to tell in one sitting.” I share some insight with her that I rarely reveal “the Navy gave me time to think, to learn, to grow into who I am, to understand what’s important to me and what I want out of life. The Navy also put me through college and set me on the path to the career I have right now.”

The look on her face is similar to that I see on small children when they’re being read a particularly good story. It’s clear that what was a commonplace childhood to me is the stuff of dreams to her. 

“There, I’ve answered the question I posed to you. Will you answer the same questions in return?”

“May I ask a different one of you first?”

That’s not strictly following our set of rules, but, I’ll let it slide if it means we continue our conversation. “Certainly.”

Shyly, she asks, “May I, please, borrow your dictionary?”

I take a moment to gaze at the tattered book. She didn’t answer my question from the holding cell. Might she be ready to now?

“Can you tell me about what happened now?”

“I saw it in your room when we first met,” she says. “I wanted to borrow it then, but thought that asking might be impolite.” Her gaze falls to her lap. “Later, in my room, I realized that there were so many words you used in our conversation that I didn’t know, that I wanted to know. The only way to learn would be from the dictionary. I decided to go back and ask you if I could read it after all.” 

Her eyes, not meeting mine, are still on her lap. “You weren’t in your office, the nurse wasn’t at the desk. I thought to leave you a note and was looking for a pencil and some paper when the men came in and shouted at me.”

I take a moment to absorb that. Really let it sink in. Another common social queue that she missed. Why didn’t she feel that she could ask me to borrow the book during our first conversation? Why did she lash out violently when discovered in my office? Wouldn’t it have been simpler to state her intentions and move on from there? My theory, that she’s not had a traditional upbringing grows stronger.

I push the halves of the dictionary across to her. “Here, of course you can borrow it.” I make an attempt to lighten the mood by saying “I think it still works.”

She looks at me lost for a minute, then ducks her head with a small smile. It lets me know that she does, indeed, get the joke.

“Might I ask, what words, in particular are you interested in looking up?”

She looks at the bits of book, laying in front of her on the table. “All of them” she states. “But, in particular: wool gathering, lozenge, motive, saliva, patrol, rifling ... “

I nod along as the list grows longer. “Anna, how is it that your vocabulary seems extensive, yet you need to look up these words?”

She’s silent for a long moment. It’s as if I can see the gears turning behind her eyes. Calculating a response. 

There’s a moment where I’m certain she’ll demure, where she won’t answer my question. But then, I can see her brace herself, and prepare to take a chance.

“The answer to that question is also the answer to your first group of questions. Only very recently, I learned, I came to understand that the way my family lives is … uncommon.” 

She looks up from her lap for a quick glance into my eyes. I’m prepared for her attempt at gauging my reaction. I’ve schooled my features into a neutral, yet interested visage. She’ll find no judgement in my gaze. I am entirely focused on providing her with a safe runway on which to land.

“I was born into a closed enclave. A self sustaining family unit. We had only each other to depend on. On very rare occasions, an outsider would join. But those were very scarce. Each member of the family was born to a function. All of us were led by our father.”

I am so proud of her and her bravery. She’s starting to tell me of her life. I can tell how difficult this is for her. Was it just a day or so ago that she wouldn't communicate at all? Then later, she gifted me with a single word, her name. Now, full sentences. Such leaps, such growth, in such a short interval. I remain still and silent but try to exude encouragement and support. 

“I never questioned the way things were. I had no idea that we might be different. Our way of life was all that I knew.” 

I’m on the edge of my seat. Mesmerized. I can see her steel herself to deliver difficult information.

“It was only recently, that I learned I had been raised, in what you would call … a cult.”


	4. What Now - Anna

I take a deep breath and pause to organize my thoughts. I know that, once I begin, there will be no turning back. I close my eyes for a brief moment and imagine the journey ahead. The road branches in two directions. Down one, I keep my silence. Down the other, I tell all, I tell the truth.

What will she think of me? Will she understand, or will she be disgusted, repulsed?

In my minds eye, I look off into the distance, down each of the roads. Which one should I take?

Suddenly, she appears in my vision. She’s standing at the start of the path to truth. Her expression is one of such kindness. She reaches her hand out to me, I take it. We start down the path, together.

I open my eyes.

I see her, sitting near me, with the same kind expression on her face. 

I choose the truth and continue the story of my life so far.

“As you know, my name is Anna. Anna Hansen. I was born and raised here in Arizona, on my father’s property, and into The Father’s Family.” 

“My father is The Father. The leader of our group. My mother is The Father’s third wife. I was born the seventh of her nine children. My sisters and I worked hard to serve, my brothers were cherished.”

Her face is calm, her eyes direct. I have never been listened to this way. It is unsettling.

“My childhood was standard to me as well. Worship everyday, before breakfast, during lunch, and after dinner well into the night. No school. School was for boys only. Girls were born to serve, boys were born to lead.”

When my gaze falls on my lap, it looks like my hospital smock has been splashed with raindrops. It takes me a minute to realize that I’ve started silently crying as I speak. 

“From when I was very small, I learned to forage and gather. Time not worshipping was spent gathering. Even as a small child there was an expectation of servitude and subservience. I learned quickly how to meet expectations in an effort to avoid punishment. Every day I'd provide mushrooms, cactus flowers and other edibles to help sustain the family.”

“I became very good at my chores at a very young age. I learned very quickly that, if I did my tasks, obeyed my elders and didn’t cause any fuss, they were content to leave me alone to do my work.”

“Some of my sisters were lazy or disobedient. I saw their punishment. I saw how they were tethered to an older girl until they could be trusted. I worked hard to never be seen as that type of child.”

“When my presence wasn’t required for worship or house chores, I was out roaming the desert. My daily trips took me farther and farther from our home base. Even so, I was always very careful to be back on time.”

“I found many interesting things on my wanderings. That’s when I started down the path of sin.”

"One day, I stumbled on an old abandoned wooden shack, worn to splinters, leaning away from the wind, near the opening of a long closed copper mine.”

“The adults had warned us often about the dangers we could encounter in the desert. Scorpions, rattle snakes, javelina and other creatures to avoid. They also warned us to stay clear of the old mine shafts that were scattered throughout the desert. Once a source of great wealth and abundance, they’d been sealed up and abandoned long ago. They were dangerous and strictly off limits.” 

“The little shack was a place where I could rest out of the hot sun. A peaceful space that I could have all to myself. At home, I shared a room with my sisters. At home, it was never quiet enough to hear myself think.”

“I filled the shack with the treasures I found. Bits of quartz and rocks laced with mica that sparkled in the sun. Ancient arrowheads and rusty horseshoes. I would sometimes find papers, with writing and pictures on them. I’d take them to the shack and keep them there. I was told, early on, that, if I found something of the like, I was supposed to bring them home and add them to the compost heap, but, I decided to keep them for myself.” 

“Then one day, quite by accident, I found my brother’s school primer.” Thinking back on that moment, I feel the same excitement at the discovery now as I did then. 

“I was surprised to find it out in the brush. He never much cared for school and was never precious about his books and materials, but finding it out and away from the family was unexpected.” 

“Looking back now, I see that moment, finding my brother’s primer, was the greatest moment of my life.” I can feel my heart doubly pounding with the fear and exhilaration I felt then at the finding and that I'm feeling now at the telling.

“I knew that I should return it to him, unopened, immediately. If it was discovered in my possession there would be harsh punishment for me. But I just couldn’t resist the urge to keep it.”

“I smuggled it to my shack. I was terrified of what my theft and disobedience meant, but equally thrilled and curious about what I would find between the covers of that book. That’s when I started to learn, not only how to read, but that life outside of The Family, might be very different.”

“My brother got a whipping when he showed up to school without his book, but they gave him a new one easily enough and life was back to normal for him. But not for me! A door had opened, a light had gone on, I was awake to so many new possibilities!”

“I was able to learn to read from the primer. It had pictures above the letters that formed words. It was like a game to understand the letters in the alphabet and the magic they make when they are used in different ways to form an endless amount of words. It was a genuine pleasure to read and learn and I found that I couldn’t stop. I spent every minute I could, working out the puzzles that the primer offered up.”

“Once I’d worked my way through the primer, I turned to the scraps of paper and tried to puzzle them out too. I know now that they were pages from newspapers and magazines. Trash to most but keys to the universe to me.”

“I was able to sound out the words, and most of them were familiar to me. I was able to piece together the meaning of others from how they were placed, or the picture that they were with. Some I couldn’t figure out.”

“You asked me about my vocabulary” I look back up to her. “That’s why I know some words, but not others. I learned what I could from the primer and the discarded pages I found.”

“As time went by, my brothers were given more and more books at school. Though I never found another, I never touched the ones I saw around our house. I secretly watched my brothers studying at the kitchen table while I helped to prepare meals or clean the house. I listened to what they said as they studied together and learned what I could. I was able to see that they used a dictionary often and hoped that, one day, I’d be able to look at one too.”

I look down at the halves of the book on the table in front of me. Such a treasure, it’s almost impossible to believe that I’ve been loaned it and am free to read it as I wish.

But, I’ve not fully answered her question yet. I have to continue, I need to tell it all.

“As for what I’ve been through” I hesitate here, break our eye contact and stare down into my lap. I’m ashamed of what I have to share. Concerned that what I have to reveal will disgust her. As I raise my hand from my lap to reach for the napkin on the table I can see that it’s shaking badly. 

Quietly, but with purpose, she moves her chair closer to me. She reaches out and takes my shaking hand in hers. At her touch I feel a shock of energy, like she's fortifying me with some of her strength through her caring touch. She look me deep in the eye and says “Anna, I know that this is difficult for you. You’re being so very brave. Please know that I am here with you and will help you in any way I can. No expectations, no judgement.” She rests our joined hands on the table. With her other hand she picks up the napkin I was reaching for and uses it to gently wipe the tears from my cheek.

I continue “As for what I’ve been through, I was blessed at a very early age, by the gaze and favor of our father.” I take another deep breath and note how difficult that small effort seems at the moment. “He took me under his wing and tutored me in the skills I would need to become a woman of the family.”

She keeps gentle hold of my hand. Her expression remains open and kind.

“It was a great and unexpected honor when he proclaimed to the family that he would take me as his next wife.”


End file.
